


A Good Husband Would

by IndelibleEvidence



Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: Coma, Comatose Remi, F/M, Season/Series 04, Symbolic Dreams, Written Pre-Season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-13 00:28:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16006484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndelibleEvidence/pseuds/IndelibleEvidence
Summary: Bored and under house arrest, Remi tries to get Weller to explain why he won't sleep with her. Written before season four has aired, so this will most likely not tie in with canon.





	1. Husbandly Duties

**Author's Note:**

> The feedback I've gotten from this so far is that Reller smut needs to happen. It will be angsty, if it does, and Kurt will regret it afterwards...

"You can't have it both ways," Remi said, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at Weller. "You say I'm your wife and that you love me, no matter what memories I have, but when it comes to this, you're treating Remi and Jane like two different people."

Kurt groaned, picking the pillow and blankets he'd been using off the couch and putting them back in the corner of the room. It had been almost a week since he'd he’d caught up with her and put her under house arrest, effectively fucking up all of her plans. If that wasn’t bad enough, he wouldn't share the bed with her—not that he would have had a problem keeping his hands to himself while he was awake, since he'd been keeping himself at a distance. But once he was asleep, or first thing in the morning, while he was still half drowsing, he would put his arms around her and cuddle.

She loved it, though she hated herself for doing so. And when it was early morning, and he'd rub his hard cock against her ass as he spooned up against her…

It was a relief to not have to pretend to be Jane anymore, but she really missed Weller's cock.

Remi sat down on the couch he'd just cleared, trying not to squirm at the images her mind had just come up with. "You're not going to discuss this with me?"

"I need coffee first," he mumbled, running his fingers through his mussed hair. "And you need your tracker drink."

Sighing, Remi took the bottle he held out. It looked like plain water, but according to Nas from the NSA, this stuff made her visible by satellite, wherever she went. Which would make it really hard to slip out of view and continue her resistance of the US government—she'd already tried it twice, and both times, Weller had found her within thirty minutes. For now, she was biding her time, waiting for the Feds to show their hand.

And she couldn't even get laid to alleviate her boredom.

"So explain your logic to me," she demanded, watching him pour his coffee. "I'm your wife, I'm just 'confused' right now, but you don't want to fuck me because Jane might be upset? What, you think I'll go away again, and she'll come back?"

Weller sat down on the opposite side of the couch, his eyes troubled. "It's not that."

"That's what it seems like to me." Remi tried not to sound like she was sulking, though she guessed she kind of was.

It hurt that he didn't want to touch her now. He'd been so loving and affectionate while he'd been recovering from his gunshot wound. Sure, he'd looked suspicious at times, when her Jane performance had been too over the top, or had slipped to reveal glimpses of her true self. But she'd enjoyed his behaviour towards her even as she'd detested the man himself. Who wouldn't love being woken by tiny kisses all over the back of their neck, or getting a mug of hot chocolate brought to her while she was soaking in a bubble bath?

And the sex? Oh, my god. Once he'd recovered enough for that, she hadn't been able to get enough. Even though he'd been wounded at first, and they'd had to be careful he didn't overexert himself, he'd been incredible in bed. Once he'd healed, he'd blown her mind. He knew everything she loved, and some things she didn't even know she loved until he did them.

Sure, the times when he'd wanted to go slow and gaze at her face as they rocked together had been difficult to bear. She got the feeling Jane had been just as sickeningly love-struck, so she'd had to act. At least she was good at making men feel like she loved them.

Remi finished her tracker drink to distract herself from the memory of Oscar, the only man she'd truly loved. It still hurt to think of him. The files said she'd killed him when she'd been Jane, but she had no memory of it. _Oscar…_

But that had been four years ago, apparently. There was something so strange about not remembering what she'd been doing over the past half a decade, and knowing the details second-hand. The things she'd fucked up when she'd had no memory of her life…

That was the whole point she was trying to make to Weller, though. She counted Jane as a different person, not her at all. But he insisted she was the same person, just without the perspective the past five years had given her. And yet, he was the one acting like Jane had just stepped out for groceries, and might be back any second.

Without a giant dose of ZIP, _that_ sure wasn't happening.

"So if it's not that, then what is it?" she prompted Weller, who was still frowning into his coffee with that hurt expression he'd spent most of the past week with.

"You're not yourself right now. It feels like I'd be taking advantage of you while you're not mentally…" He scowled, frustrated. "That's not right either. Look, Remi, I have no idea about this ZIP stuff. All I know is that a couple of months ago, we were happy and in love. Things weren't perfect, things kept getting in the way, but we loved each other so much."

She'd gotten a few random memories back since waking at the hospital. She had no reason to doubt his words. She almost felt bad for him, losing his wife like that and having someone he'd see as a criminal wake up in her body.

"The way I see it, I wasn't in my right mind before. I spent thirty years being myself. Then the ZIP made me sick and you took advantage while I didn't have my memories. And now I'm better."

"If you're better, why can't you remember being Jane? Why does most of your knowledge of our life together come from case files, photographs and videos?"

Remi glared at him. "It's a side effect worth having to be me again. I don't know, maybe my attachment to you was a weird sort of Stockholm Syndrome or something."

He actually flinched then. Why did that make her feel guilty? This man had led her astray for five years while she didn't have the memories and experience to know better.

_And he treated you with respect and affection the entire time. Didn't do more than kiss you for the first two years. And the first time was your idea._

Wow, where had that thought come from? Did she have Jane living in her head now?

"You're going to get those memories back, Remi. Slowly, but surely. You'll remember what happened, and how you felt when it did. That's the part you're missing right now. The perspective you gained when you were living as Jane."

"The part that you loved," Remi mumbled uncomfortably.

"I still love you. Even if you do something unforgivable, I'll love you. For the rest of my life, even if you're in supermax and I've moved on, because getting your memories of the past five years back doesn't change your perspective of the world and I can't stop you from doing something terrible. I just don't know how this is gonna play out yet. I don't know how any of this works, what you're gonna do, how I'm gonna have to react…"

He looked so conflicted, so depressed, that she felt the instinctive urge to hug him. Not that she indulged it. Now that she wasn't playing Jane anymore, if she wasn't trying to get laid, she wasn't interested in his embrace.

_Sure, Remi._

"Weller… You're overthinking this. And for what? Do you think if I get my memories of being Jane back, I'm gonna feel betrayed because you cheated on me with that naughty Remi? Do you think I don't know what I want right now, that I'm confused, that I'll regret it later?"

"No. Think of it more like this: the way you're acting and the things you've done recently, I need time to come to terms with. No different than when you cheated on me with Clem. I need space and I need distance, because I'm hurt and I'm mad at you. Not for not being Jane, but for the things you've done behind my back since you forgot being her."

Now it was Remi's turn to flinch as though he'd struck her. "Fine."

"I don't understand why you want to sleep with me anyway. Don't you hate everything I stand for?"

"Yeah. But I'm bored and frustrated, and I know you're great in bed. The least you could do as a good husband is take the edge off." It was almost the complete truth. What she didn't want to admit—even to herself—was how much she missed the way he used to hold her when he thought she was Jane.

Weller gave a short, bitter laugh into his coffee cup. "The least I can do as a good husband is stop you from committing acts of terror."

"I can't blow up the city if you're getting me off," she retorted, and stormed into the bedroom, irritated and unfulfilled.


	2. A Moment of Weakness

The anniversary of the day Kurt had asked Jane to marry him had been depressing pretty much every year so far. For the first one, Jane had been on the run, and he’d spent it alone in Venice, drinking and trying not to let his hope that Jane would show up get too strong. It had. She hadn’t.

The second year, she’d also been gone. He’d spent it in their house in Colorado, staring down at bank statements and past-due notices, wondering if he should sell the New York apartment.

Last year, it had been just after she’d found out about Berlin. He’d wondered if this day would be cursed for him every year from now on, as he’d stared at the spot where they’d first made love after they’d gotten back from rescuing the team in Venezuela.

This year, Jane was here. Only she was adamant that she wasn’t Jane.

Kurt let himself back into the apartment late, thanking the detail posted outside as he passed. Remi was still under house arrest, still reined in by the radioactive tracker in her bloodstream. And still pissed about it.

He’d spent longer than usual over his post-case paperwork, avoiding her and hoping she’d already have shut herself in the bedroom for the night once he got home.

Remi was awake, dressed only in a pair of underwear and a tight camisole, lounging on the couch. She seemed to be engrossed in one of his Tom Clancy novels—one Jane had already read, he noted with a wave of sadness. Obviously, his wife was still not back to herself. Not that he’d expected anything else.

“Hey,” he greeted her, for no reason other than politeness. “Good book?”

“The last one was better.” She used her thumb as a bookmark as she shut the paperback, the way Jane always did when she was transferring her full attention to him.

God, he missed his wife. And at the same time, his wife was right here. Wearing practically nothing and reading one of his favourite authors.

“Yeah, it was,” he agreed, hanging up his jacket and heading towards the bathroom, intent on taking a hot shower.

“Rough day, or is the scowl because I’m still me?”

“Do you care?” he countered, turning to watch her stand up.

She opened her mouth, then shut it again. For a moment, her face was more vulnerable than he’d seen it in months, but then she shut down again, and shrugged.

Kurt resumed his path towards the bathroom, sighing.

As he showered, his brain played back memories he’d been trying not to remember all day: Jane’s awe and curiosity as they’d explored Venice. The carefree way she’d held his hand. The way her eyes had widened as he’d pulled out the ring box and dropped to one knee in front of her. The joy in her smile as she’d interrupted his first words with a ‘yes’, not even allowing him to ask her the question.

It had been one of the happiest days of his life. Their wedding day, only a few months later, had been another.

Remi didn’t remember either of those days. To her, today was just another Friday.

Kurt let the water stream over his face, wishing he could travel back in time, to watch her face, aglow in the sunset, as she admired her new engagement ring. To feel her body pressed against his as she suggested they should go back to their hotel room to celebrate properly.

After he stepped out of the shower, he bit back a curse. He’d taken to keeping a pile of clothing in here, to avoid having to wander past Remi wearing only a towel. She’d taken the hint and stopped trying to seduce him outright, but he didn’t see the point in letting her objectify him more than necessary. He’d worn the last of those outfits last night, though, and he’d forgotten to bring any more clothing in since.

This day was definitely cursed.

Steeling himself, he checked his towel was securely tucked around his waist, then headed out towards the bedroom, mentally cursing yet again when he realised Remi had gone to bed.

He knocked on the door, knowing as he did so that he was going to regret it. But he’d regret sleeping naked even worse, come the morning. “Remi, I need to come in and grab something to wear.”

She opened the door, still wearing nothing but the camisole and panties, and made no effort to hide her appraisal of his mostly naked body. “Come on in. Are you staying the night?”

“No,” he said shortly, opening the drawer that held the sweatpants and old shirts he used as sleepwear.

“You should.” She leaned against the wall beside the dresser, toying with the edge of her shirt.

“We’ve had this discussion, Remi. I’m not gonna sleep with someone who hates me.”

She sighed. “I wish I could hate you. I used to. Maybe she won’t let me.”

“How much of this is true, and how much are you trying to stall me before I get dressed?”

Remi laughed, a little sadly. “Is that all I am to you these days? Just a sexual harasser to be avoided?”

“You don’t make it easy for you to be anything else.”

It was true. He’d started with good intentions, trying to help her remember their time together, but she’d resisted, shut down all his anecdotes and his recollections. The open hatred in her face had been hard to bear. As she’d grown used to the house arrest and the fact that her plans had been derailed, she’d drawn into herself, with the odd attempt to get him to slake her sexual thirst. Her behaviour had been less direct over the past week or so, but he’d been too tired and heartsick to attempt to build bridges.

Maybe he should have tried harder. With that rueful look on her face, she almost looked like herself again.

“Do you know what day it is today?”

She tilted her head, considering. “Besides Friday?”

Of course, she wouldn’t have a clue. Defeated, he selected his nightwear and closed the drawer. “Goodnight, Remi.”

He was moving faster than she anticipated as she stepped into his path, and he slammed into her, hard, then caught her as she stumbled back. The towel slipped from around his waist as he steadied her, so that only her body pressed against his prevented it from falling to the floor entirely.

This close, her scent filled his senses. It seemed that, Jane or Remi, her tastes in shower gel and shampoo were the same. He closed his eyes as she slid her arms around his waist, fighting back the urge to just pretend, just for a little while, that things hadn’t changed.

“Don’t you get lonely sometimes?” she whispered in his ear, the hard points of her nipples pressing against his chest through her thin shirt. “There’s some part of me that won’t stop looking for you, or missing you, or wanting you.”

“Remi,” he groaned, as much to remind himself of her identity as to try to shut her up.

Her hands slid down to cup his naked ass, her fingernails digging in just a little. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t remember, but the things that I feel…”

Kurt knew this was something they should talk about. _Talk_ , while they were both clothed and sitting somewhere more neutral than the bedroom, with space between them. But he couldn’t move, the feel of her warm body against his too familiar and tempting to give up.

“God, even now you’re holding back. Don’t you want to just…forget for a while?”

Maybe it was the tremor in her voice. Maybe it was the tears in her eyes. Or maybe it was because he was too damn exhausted to resist her any longer. Whatever it was, he didn’t bother to analyse it, crushing her lips beneath his in a rough, conflicted kiss.

Her moan as she raked her fingers through his hair made his pulse spike. Unable to help himself, he drove her back against the dresser, lifting her onto it as the towel between them fell to the floor, forgotten.

Kurt yanked down the front of her shirt to expose her breasts—one nipple pink, the other almost completely tattooed black. He trailed his mouth over the tattoos covering her chest, rolling and pinching the ink-free nipple between his finger and thumb as he nipped the other between his teeth.

She sounded exactly like Jane used to when she cried out, felt just like Jane as she arched her back, pressing harder into his touch.

“Fuck, Weller…” The husky sigh was so Remi that reality crashed back into him abruptly.

Only the way she was stroking his cock—with firm but lazy movements designed to drive him crazy but not bring him release—prevented him from stepping back and leaving the room at her distracted moan. Jane had so rarely called him by his last name after their wedding, even at work.

He knew Remi had played him, pretended to feel more than she did—but he’d let himself be played, and he couldn’t bear to walk away now. He silenced Remi with an almost violent kiss—rougher than he’d ever treated Jane when she’d been herself—and she nipped his lower lip in response, spreading her legs farther apart in invitation.

Kurt dragged the fabric of her underwear to one side and groaned against her neck as she practically soaked his hand with his first stroke between her legs. She was more than ready to take him in, and he wanted this over. Wanted to lose himself in sordid pleasure and pretend, just for a second, that everything was okay. That Remi had rediscovered Jane. That his wife wasn’t slowly dying.

Closing the door to that train of thought, he dragged Remi forward by the hips until she was right at the edge of the dresser, clinging to him for balance with one hand even as she guided his cock to the right spot with the other. Her head fell back in pleasure as he pushed steadily into her, and he couldn’t help but press his lips to the bird tattoo as he adjusted to the feel of her around him. _Jane. God, I miss you._

When he opened his eyes, Remi was watching him, an unreadable expression on her face. He got the feeling she knew exactly where his mind had gone for the few seconds he’d stopped moving.

“Do I fuck like she does?” There was less animosity in the question than he would have expected.

“Like you used to. Before we got used to each other.” And that made more sense than it didn’t, since the only person Jane had slept with before him had been Oscar.

Remi’s breath caught as he began to move again, slowly drawing out of her almost completely before sinking back into her heat.

“I want it hard,” she demanded, bracing her feet against the dresser. “So hard it hurts.”

It was tempting. But beneath that defensive demand was the familiar voice of his wife, and no matter how conflicted he was about this, he couldn’t intentionally hurt her.

“If that’s how you want it, you’ll have to call in one of the guys from outside.”

He smothered her complaint with a kiss. What had started out as something he wanted to get over and done as soon as possible had become a way for him to take back a little of the control he’d lost when he’d discovered he’d been sharing his bed with someone who considered herself the enemy.

Despite her supposed disappointment, Remi didn’t make the slightest move to push him away as he took her with slow, controlled thrusts. He watched her as she leaned back on her hands, biting back moans as he adjusted his angle to hit the right spot as he moved.

“Remi or Jane, it doesn’t matter,” he told her. “I know you love it when I do this.”

She gave him a half-hearted scowl even as she arched with pleasure at his increased pace. He felt her tremble on the brink of climax, watched her struggle not to beg and then lose the battle. “Kurt,” she gasped out. “Please…”

He slid his hand down to her clit, applying just the right kind of indirect friction to take her over the edge, keeping a tenuous hold on his own composure as her body clenched rhythmically around his cock. She didn’t vocalise her pleasure, maybe out of pure stubbornness, but her dazed, satisfied expression told him he’d surpassed her expectations.

He kissed her again, unable to help himself, and she wound her arms and legs around him, her return kisses lazily hedonistic in a way that sent a pang of sorrow through his chest. She was so much like her old self in this moment, he almost couldn’t stand it.

When she came down from her high a little, she pulled back enough to look him in the eye. The cynicism he’d come to associate with Remi was still there, but she didn’t try to rip him apart with her words now that she’d taken what she wanted from him.

“Let’s finish this.”

Kurt was in total agreement.

It took only a few seconds to move from the dresser to the bed, Kurt stretched out on his back and Remi sitting astride his hips. She met his eyes as she began to move, and he sucked in a shaky breath at the conflict in her expression—desire and hostility, longing and defensiveness, sadness and connection.

They understood each other, at least in this moment. What they were to each other, and what they weren’t.

“Remi,” he growled, gripping her hips to guide her movements.

“Weller,” she breathed, her eyes half-closing with pleasure.

Instinctively, he sat up, dragged her into a heated, clumsy kiss as she bounced in his lap. Remi returned it just as fervently, then shoved him back down to the bed as she rode him harder. He bucked up against her, his climax building steadily with every provocative tilt of her hips. Remi gasped for breath, her focus turning inward as she sought just the right movement to trigger her second orgasm.

She fell forward onto her hands as her release swept over her, catching herself before she crashed down onto Kurt. He gripped her hips and took the final few desperate thrusts he needed to follow her over the edge, groaning with relief as he lost himself in the moment.

Afterwards, she rolled off him, her breathing ragged as she recovered. He was in the same state, dishevelled and panting for breath as the euphoria faded and reality descended.

_That was a mistake._

He looked over at Remi to find her watching him with the same bleak expression he was sure he had. He’d caught her off guard; she immediately turned over, her back to him, and said, “Goodnight, Weller.”

He couldn’t bring himself to reply as he rose from the bed. Without pausing to think, he picked up the towel and the clothing he’d come in here to get and headed for the door, trying not to think of what they’d just done.

* * *

He’d assumed he wouldn’t see any more of Remi that night, but around thirty minutes later, as he made up his couch bed, she emerged from the bedroom with her bathrobe tightly wrapped around her.

“The anniversary of your engagement. That’s what today was.”

“ _Our_ engagement,” he corrected, reaching for the cord of the lamp he’d just turned off and illuminating the room again.

She nodded, but didn’t speak.

“Did you remember? Or did you dig around in there until you found something that told you?” Kurt sat down on the couch and waited, knowing she could read his scepticism.

Remi shifted her weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. “I remembered Venice. The hotel room. The red rose and that soft, gold-coloured comforter you wrapped her in. You fucked her just like that, right? After you proposed.”

For the first time in weeks, a spark of hope ignited in Kurt’s chest. It was too detailed a memory to have been pieced together from outside pieces of information, but still, he tested her. “And the blanket smelled like peppermint.”

“Cinnamon.” She gave him a sad smile. “I’m not trying to screw with your head, Weller. I remembered.”

He indicated the vacant space next to him on the couch. “Wanna sit?”

Remi did—as far from him as the couch would allow.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, as she pulled at a loose thread on the hem of her robe.

“I wasn’t bullshitting you, you know. Earlier.”

“Yeah. You were.” That was one thing he was certain of. She’d played on his emotions, got him to drop his guard enough that he’d given in to her seduction. And no matter what she’d remembered since, he was pissed about it. At her—for the manipulation—and at himself, for being taken in.

Remi sighed. “I exaggerated a little. I admit it. But it wasn’t something I pulled out of nowhere.”

Kurt waited, not trusting himself to speak.

“I went into this mission hating you. I woke up from the coma hating you. I heard what had happened while I’d been Jane, and I hated you even more. Sometimes I still do. But sometimes I hear something, or smell something, or you do something that trips a trigger. I don’t get a full memory back, just a feeling.”

She was tense, her hands balled into fists in her lap now. The atmosphere practically screamed, _don’t touch me._

Carefully, Kurt ventured, “It bothers you.”

“She was happy,” Remi said awkwardly. “She was happier than I’ve ever been.”

“ _You_ were happy. Those feelings are yours.”

“No.” Remi shook her head emphatically. “You don’t understand. This doesn’t belong to me. She woke up, she crawled out of that bag and she made a life for herself. And she destroyed everything that had any meaning to me.”

She looked up at him, her anger tinged with hopelessness. “This is her world, not mine. So why am I back?”

“You really can’t believe that she’s you?” Kurt’s heart ached for this broken version of his wife. “Because I see a lot of Jane in you.”

Remi snorted. “We’re ideologically total opposites. Didn’t you tell me she hated me?”

“She didn’t have the full picture of what you’d been through. Just like you don’t have the full picture of her yet. When you were Jane, you weren’t always happy. You spent a lot of time lonely, confused, angry, hurt…”

“Why don’t I remember any of that?”

“Maybe you do. But maybe when you got those feelings back, they were close to what you were feeling at the time, so they didn’t stand out.” Kurt shrugged. “Anyway, I’m no psychologist. But the only way I can explain it is that Jane is the version of Remi that got to start from scratch, without any memory of South Africa, the orphanage, Shepherd, Orion…”

Remi was quiet, but he sensed he was getting through to her. “You had your problems, especially after Oscar made contact. The more your past caught up with you, the more complicated things got. But you didn’t have the emotional baggage weighing you down at the start. So when you came into contact with, for example, law enforcement…”

“I didn’t assume you’re a bunch of unquestioning drones who work to uphold the status quo of a corrupt government.” Remi’s lips twisted bitterly. “Which meant I became one of them.”

“You understood something then that you have trouble believing now, because you remember everything Shepherd drummed into you.”

Sensing this would lead to an argument if he didn’t nip it in the bud, Kurt stood up. “Planning on sleeping anytime soon, or do you want me to make you some tea?”

Remi stood up abruptly, as if he’d dismissed her instead of just changed the subject. “I’m gonna head to bed.”

She made it most of the way to the bedroom before turning. “Weller?”

“You’re welcome,” he said, saving her the struggle of actually having to thank him.

She nodded, relief flashing across her face. “Goodnight.”

Kurt lay awake for a long time that night, wondering if Remi had reached the start of a turning point, or whether he was building himself up for another agonising fall.


	3. Terrible Things

_“Agent Weller, your wife has collapsed.”_

The words had been playing through Kurt’s mind over and over since he’d first heard them, around thirty minutes ago. The journey from the office back to their apartment had seemed to take forever.

There was an ambulance outside on the street when he arrived home, and paramedics were just emerging from his apartment block. “Were you here for my wife—Jane Doe-Weller? Remi?”

As one of the paramedics gave him a brief rundown of Remi’s condition—she’d collapsed with a blinding headache that was most likely to do with her ZIP poisoning, but she’d refused to come with them to the hospital and had promised to rest and speak to her specialist as soon as she was feeling well enough for the phone call—he fought the urge to just run to her side, and damn the medical side of things.

How much longer did she have? The doctors didn’t know, so the paramedics would have no clue. He didn’t bother asking, thanking them for their assistance and heading upstairs as quickly as possible.

One of the agents standing guard tried to update him as he approached the apartment door, but Kurt waved her off with a quick explanation that he’d spoken to the paramedics, and went straight to the darkened bedroom.

Remi groaned when he opened the door, letting in a slice of light from the hallway. He stepped inside quickly and shut the door, blocking the source of her pain. He’d put up heavier drapes since her headaches had gotten worse; his sister had always suffered from migraines, so he knew that shutting out as much light as possible would help ease Remi’s discomfort. The room was as dim as he could make it, but he could still find his way easily to her bedside.

Taking her hand, he sat on the edge of the bed. “Remi. How are you feeling?”

“Peachy.” Her voice was slurred with the pain, and she didn’t try to take off the sleeping mask she’d been wearing during her headaches.

“You don’t think the hospital would be a good idea?”

“Too much light. T’much noise.”

When he put his hand to her forehead, finding it warmer than he would have liked to the touch, Remi gave an appreciative sigh. “Feels good.”

Making a note to get her a cold, damp washcloth when he got up again, Kurt kept his hand there. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Find Roman’s last drive?” Her voice was a little wry, as though she knew she was asking a lot. He’d been bringing the clues home to see if Roman had included anything that only Remi would know, but she hadn’t put anything together so far.

“We’re working on it. Hard as we can.”

Remi snorted. “Your team hates me. It would be so much simpler if I died.”

“Don’t talk like that.” It was an effort to keep the sharpness and volume out of his voice; they’d make her headache worse.

“’S okay. I betrayed their trust. I did terrible things. I don’t blame them if they feel that way.”

She sounded so much like she had when Jane had been undercover with Sandstorm, and the team had been torn apart by Mayfair’s death and the revelations about why Jane had been sent to the FBI. Kurt’s chest physically ached at the desolation in her voice.

Then her words sank in. “You did terrible things?”

“You know what I did, Weller.”

And part of him would never stop hurting. But that wasn’t the point right now. “You didn’t think it was terrible when you did it.”

“Things change,” she whispered.

He wanted to push her, demand to know what was going on in her head, but she gave a low whimper and pulled the blanket over her head. “Fuck, that hurts…”

Kurt hesitated, torn between going back to work—to slam his head against the same brick wall they’d been staring at for the past week and a half—and getting into bed with her. In the end, his heart won out, and he stripped down to his underwear before sliding under the covers with her.

When he took her hand again, Remi rolled closer to him, seeking the comfort of his embrace. “Dying is fucking terrifying,” she confessed.

 _So is watching you die._ He bit back the words, knowing that if he wanted to talk about his fear, he should choose someone—anyone—else to discuss it with.

While he tried to find the right words to soothe her, she laughed bitterly. “I never thought that someone I thought of as my enemy would become my greatest ally.”

Kurt kissed her temple softly. “I’m right here with you.”

Since they’d had sex the week before, some of the walls between them had come down. Remi was still having trouble accessing most of her full memories, but the underlying feelings seemed to be coming back more and more often. Just last night, he’d caught her frowning as she’d stared down at a magazine article.

“You okay?” he’d asked, concerned that she had a headache coming on.

Remi had given him a baffled look. “What is so fucking great about vegan lasagne? She… _I…_ Why does it make me so happy?”

Kurt didn’t think he’d smiled that widely since Jane had told him she thought she might be pregnant. He’d tried to explain that moment in their kitchen, the way he’d told her over and over that he loved her, and she’d laughed and wrapped her arms around him as he’d kissed her neck. He couldn’t find the right words to explain it so she’d understand why it meant so much, and she’d been just as mystified after his attempt as before it, but it gave him hope.

Hope was the only thing that stopped him from tearing himself apart right now.

Remi stiffened in his arms, clutching her head with an agonised cry. Kurt fought the urge to lunge for his phone to call nine-one-one, whispering reassurances as she slowly relaxed again, struggling to catch her breath.

“Let me get you a cool washcloth for your head,” he murmured, when she was still again.

“No, stay—” She reached out, her palm connecting with his chest as he sat up.

He put his hand over hers out of habit, then fought another wave of grief as he remembered the first time Jane had reached out to him this way. Her first attempt to convey her feelings about him. _You. You’re my starting point._

Remi froze for a second, then struggled into a sitting position as well, not taking her hand from over his heart. He could hardly see her through the darkness, and she was still wearing the sleeping mask, but somehow he sensed her focus had drifted.

Then she began to tremble violently, gasping for breath as she clutched her temples. Kurt guided her back down to the pillow, helpless to understand what was happening to her.

“Remi, talk to me.”

She didn’t even seem to hear him, rolling onto her side and drawing her knees up to her chest, her breathing still fast and light. By the time the pain overtook her and the screams started in earnest, Kurt was already halfway to the phone.

 


	4. The Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt remembers the first time he officially 'met' Remi.

Kurt ended his call to Reade and wearily leaned back in the chair beside Remi’s bed. The doctors had medically induced a coma to prevent the ZIP progression from becoming too advanced, too quickly—she wasn’t going to wake up anytime soon—but he’d informed Reade he was going to take the rest of the day off anyway.

The rest of the team were still trying to sort out the clues from Roman’s drives, patching together everything they could. But progress was slow, and no one had any clue how much longer Remi could hang on for. Kurt would go back to work tomorrow, hopefully with his head on straight, but for the rest of today, he wanted to be by his wife’s side.

“If I talk to her, can she hear me?” he asked the nurse checking Remi’s vitals.

“We don’t know,” the nurse said sympathetically. “If she can, she won’t remember what she’s heard when she wakes up. A coma shuts down the brain function to the bare minimum, which is what we want in your wife’s case. But there’s no reason you shouldn’t talk to her, just in case.”

Kurt murmured his thanks, barely taking his eyes off Remi’s face. With a sympathetic smile, the nurse left the room.

Kurt took hold of a hand almost as familiar to him as his own, tracing the honeycomb tattoo on the back of it with a finger. When he’d done this to Jane, on a few different occasions during their romantic relationship, she’d always laughed and tried to pull away, insisting that his touch tickled. Remi’s face didn’t twitch as he traced the multi-hexagonal design now—not that the tubes in her nose and throat would have permitted her to laugh easily.

Sighing, he pressed his forehead against the back of her hand and began to speak. “Remi… Jane… Whichever part of you can hear me… We’re doing everything we can, I promise. The team are searching as hard as they can for leads. I’m gonna take a break for the rest of today, go back to it with fresh eyes in the morning.”

He guessed he should at least tell her what was happening to her. “The doctors have medically induced a coma. The ZIP was damaging your brain at a faster rate than before, so they thought it would buy some time. They can keep you like this for months, if they need to. But if we can find Roman’s last drive, it might only be a few days.”

Remi didn’t move or speak, not that he’d expected her to. The life support machine beeped a steady rhythm to monitor her heartbeat. The ventilator that kept her breathing hissed quietly with each forced breath into her lungs.

Kurt kissed her hand before gently settling it back on the blanket. He should leave, go get something to eat, have an early night to recharge his brain. But all he could think about was that if not for the coma, the ZIP would be ripping through Remi’s—Jane’s—brain and destroying the woman he loved. As well as the woman he barely knew, and all her hatred for the world as well.

If the ZIP could only take the part of her that was bitter and resentful, that caused her to lash out at her targets without care for the innocent people she harmed—that would be by far the best outcome. He wasn’t that naïve, though. He knew that if the ZIP took anything more, it might be as inconsequential as her knowledge of the lyrics of nursery rhymes, or as huge as her ability to walk or talk.

“I love you,” he whispered, unsure if he was addressing the part of her that he’d known as Jane, or the woman he’d only just begun to get past the defences of—Remi. He understood why she thought of herself as two different people. It was so much simpler that way, though he’d refused to let Remi treat Jane like a dead woman. “Just hold on. Don’t make me live without you again.”

As he sat back, something on her other hand glinted—her wedding ring. Kurt stared at it, for a moment sure he was hallucinating out of stress and exhaustion. When had she put it back on?

The moment she’d last taken it off was ingrained in his memory, so painful that he still felt raw inside every time he relived the memory.

* * *

**Three months earlier**

Kurt had finally shared his suspicions about Jane with the team, to find that they’d all been thinking the same things as he had. They’d all been concerned by her odd behaviour over the past few weeks, but they’d written it off as symptoms of the ZIP poisoning until recently, when there was too much oddness to ignore. Independent of each other, they’d all begun testing her in subtle ways—adding inaccurate details into their anecdotes, making snarky comments about former Sandstorm members to watch her reactions, and other small, subtle things.

As they’d sat around the conference table, they’d argued about the sheer impossibility that the ZIP had only taken the memories she had of being Jane, while reinstating the memories from her Remi days in full. It made no sense, but it seemed to be the only explanation that added up. They’d decided to watch and wait for more evidence, but to stay vigilant.

A few hours later, Kurt returned home to find his wife listening to jazz, a photograph held in one hand and tears on her cheeks. She tucked the photo away as soon as he came close, and tried to change the subject when he asked her if she wanted to talk about it. She wouldn’t even stand up when he held out his hand, meaning to pull her into his arms as soon as she got to her feet.

He backed off, retreating to the kitchen to make them some dinner, but halfway through putting ingredients on the counter, another puzzle piece slotted into place. He leaned against the wall opposite her chair, watching her.

“I thought you hated jazz.”

Every time he’d caught her in a misstep lately, she’d always rubbed her temples and asked him to leave her alone for a while because she had a headache. He’d been taken in by it for weeks, too concerned with the fact that she was slowly dying of ZIP poisoning to think beyond the surface. She’d played him like this so many times, but that day, his team’s suspicions fresh in his mind, he refused to drop it.

“No, Jane. Just give me a moment, here. I know you hate jazz, because you turn it off every time it comes on the radio. After a while I started noticing a pattern and asked you why, and you said you hate it because it reminds you of Oscar.”

She gave him an impatient scowl. “Yeah, I remember. What’s your point?”

“If I took a look at that picture in your pocket, whose face would I see?”

Her jaw set mulishly, and she pressed one hand against her pocket. “Roman’s.”

Kurt held out a hand. “Prove it.”

“What’s with you tonight?” she asked, her tone and expression so injured that he almost gave in and went back to the kitchen. “I feel _terrible_ , Kurt. I don’t need the third degree from you as well.”

“Just show me the picture, Jane.”

She stood up, her eyes flashing. “And if I don’t want to?”

“Then maybe we should talk about how more and more things aren’t adding up about you these days. You claim to remember things from our past that never happened. You don’t remember things that did. You’re eating meat again, which would be fine on its own, but put together with everything else, it makes me think it’s because you don’t remember the time in your life when you stopped.”

“What are you…?” She began to cry, full-on sobs and a river of tears that wrenched at his heart, even as he knew they were entirely fake. Jane only ever cried this hard after he put his arms around her, and even then, she had to be encouraged to let go before she fell apart like this. The way she was acting now was normal for a lot of people, but not for his Jane.

Between sobs, she protested, “I collapsed and went into a coma because of the ZIP, Kurt. If my memory is a little fuzzy now, that’s why.”

“It doesn’t explain why you keep sneaking out at night, while you think I’m asleep.”

She froze for one telltale instant before shaking her head. “I can’t sleep, so I go out walking.”

“I thought for a while that you might be cheating on me. Maybe Clem was back in town, or you’d found someone else.” He shook his head. “You’re never gone long enough for that. And even though you always manage to lose me, when you come back to bed, I can never smell anyone else on you, either.”

“You never used to be so paranoid. I told you already, Clem was a mistake. I just needed to walk. Why won’t you just let this go?”

He held firm. “Show me the picture.”

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered, swiping at her tears as she looked around for her shoes. “Just leave me alone, Kurt.”

Kurt intercepted her on the way across the room to where her sneakers were peeking out from under the coffee table. “If you have nothing to hide, why are you running away?”

She pushed at his chest, trying to get him to move. “I’m too tired and sick to argue with you. Please, just back off.”

“Give me the picture, and I will.” God, if he was wrong, and he was giving Jane hell for things that were just coincidental… He stifled the guilt that rose through his chest. Something was very wrong here. He knew it now.

“Let me get to my shoes, and I’ll show you the picture,” she said, her voice dangerously level all of a sudden. As though she knew there was no point in pretending anymore.

Kurt stepped back, standing between her sneakers and the apartment door now. Jane—Remi—stepped into the footwear, then slammed the photograph into his chest, the fury and hatred in her face taking him aback.

Jane had never looked at him like that.

Jane had never looked at _anyone_ like that.

He had the presence of mind to keep himself between her and the door as he glanced down at the picture in his hand. As he’d expected, it showed Oscar and Remi, standing close together, completely absorbed in each other and unaware the photograph was being taken.

The look Remi was giving Oscar in the picture shook him more than he wanted to admit. He’d seen that loving, unguarded expression before—aimed at him.

As he looked from the picture to the real thing, the contrast was clear. Remi felt no trace of the love she’d had for him when she’d remembered Jane’s life. But he couldn’t think about that, not until he had her subdued and on her way to the NYO for interrogation.

Was he really about to arrest his dying wife?

“Remi Briggs,” he said, drawing his weapon from where he’d tucked it into the back of his waistband, “You are under arrest for conspiring to commit acts of terror.”

She laughed—not the soft, slightly hesitant laugh Jane would use when she found something amusing, but a harsh, one-syllable cry of derision. “You have no evidence. I slipped your tail every night. All you have are half-baked suspicions based on a medical condition that no one else but Roman has ever had.”

“You were a member of Sandstorm.”

“Eleanor Hirst gave me immunity for my past crimes. You co-signed the document. Or are _you_ the one with memory problems?”

“Am I right?” he asked, watching her body for tells that would indicate a forthcoming attack. He couldn’t look at her face, not right then. “Did you forget everything we’ve been through since you came out of that bag in Times Square? Remember everything from before then?”

“Believe me, it’s a way worse nightmare for me than for you,” she said bitterly.

“I really doubt that.” Kurt wasn’t feeling much of anything at that moment. He was numb, the way he had been when he’d first realised Jane had left the country while he’d slept, leaving her wedding ring in Bethany’s bedroom in their Colorado home. He’d needed to function, to find out where she’d gone and to persuade her to come back. Only when he’d accepted her trail had gone cold had he crashed into despair.

He suspected this time would be much the same—he’d subdue Remi, get her to a cell, then allow himself to process the situation. But when he did, it would be a nightmare worse than any he could imagine, because Jane was gone, but she couldn’t be found by physically searching for her. His wife’s body belonged to someone else. A malicious, unpredictable terrorist.

“Oh, you think it’s worse for you to find out that _Jane_ is gone than what I’ve been through?” She shook her head impatiently, the gesture so familiar that his heart ached. “I woke up to find out that not only am I dying because of the poison I let myself be injected with, but I don’t have anything to show for my death.”

Kurt tried to speak, but Remi threw up a hand, so violently that he instinctively raised his gun a little.

“My fiancé is dead, and what’s worse is, _I killed him._ Literally. With my own hands. On purpose.” Her anger kept rising, but there were tears in her eyes now. “My brother is dead”—her voice broke, and she had to take a moment to compose herself before going on—“and I helped you to hunt him down. For months on end. After I wiped his memory and stuck him in a fucking _cell_. The worst torture I could ever have inflicted on him.”

Kurt didn’t even try to interrupt, knowing she wouldn’t stop until she was done.

“My mother is being legally tortured in a goddamn CIA black site. Maybe the same one where Jane was held on suspicion of being me. Shepherd can be held and tortured indefinitely until someone gets around to trying and convicting her, and then she’ll rot away in a cell for the rest of her life, if she’s not given a lethal injection first.”

 _Your mother deserves everything that’s happened to her_. Kurt didn’t say it aloud. It would only make the situation worse.

“My friends are all dead or imprisoned, and I helped to put them there. I helped to capture and kill my family and friends, and I don’t remember doing it. And what did I trade my whole life away for? _This?_ ”

Her voice was so acidic, so incredulous, that it made Kurt flinch. Jane had never sounded like this. Was his wife even in there at all anymore? Or was Remi too broken and toxic for any goodness to remain?

“ _This_ is what Jane sacrificed my whole life for? A federal drone husband, a comfy apartment in Brooklyn and a job at the FB-fucking-I? Oh, and don’t forget the picket fence and stepdaughter out in Colorado. Sure, that makes it all worth it.”

Kurt’s blood froze at the mention of Bethany. She could rip their life to pieces and he couldn’t stop her, but if she took one step in his daughter’s direction—

“And Avery. She met Avery. She influenced my damn daughter, the daughter I searched for over eighteen years. She found her. I needed that so badly, I volunteered to fucking poison myself so that after Phase Two was over, Shepherd would tell me where she was. But no. I couldn’t even have that. I couldn’t even make my own first impression on my only goddamn child.”

She wiped away a tear impatiently, her body still trembling with rage.

“I sacrificed my whole life for this country, and for a chance to know my daughter. And after five years of destroying everything I’d built for myself, I’ve woken up to this. I have nothing left. _Nothing._ ”

Kurt swallowed the lump in his throat before speaking. “You have me.”

“What? A marriage where my husband is in love with the twisted version of me who killed the man I really love? Great. I feel so much better now.” Remi pulled at her finger. It took a moment for his stunned mind to realise she was pulling off her wedding ring, and he tasted bile at the back of his throat as she slammed it down on the coffee table.

_No. Please, no. Not again._

Her next words killed his protest before it could leave his lips. “Well, you didn’t manage to knock Jane up. At least that’s one thing that went right for me.”

It was at that moment that Kurt could no longer endure. The numbness in his mind was fading, his desperation and agony rising to take its place, and he could hardly see straight as tears blurred his vision.

“You might as well put that thing away. You’re not gonna shoot me, Weller, come on. You’ve just spent the last six weeks telling me how much you fucking love me.”

He gritted his teeth and blinked past the tears, refusing to lower his weapon. “You could have killed me when you first woke up. Or when I was still weak and recovering after I got out of hospital. Hell, you could have killed me last night while I slept. Why didn’t you? Why did you hang around long enough for us to get suspicious of you?”

Remi rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding? I was undercover at the FBI. All our original plans might have gone to hell, but at least I could get as much intel as I could. Some of it pretty useful, I have to admit. Shocking, even.”

“What are you planning to do with that intel?” Could he shoot her? Could he really pull the trigger and injure someone who had his wife’s appearance, her face, her voice?

He didn’t know if he could even hit her. Sometimes, he still had nightmares about the way they’d fought in the motel after she’d escaped the CIA black site. It had been the only time he’d ever fought Jane as a true opponent, rather than a sparring partner, and she’d been desperate, vicious, throwing everything she had into the fight. Even then, when he’d distrusted and resented her for the lies she’d told, believing she’d intentionally played him and his team, he hadn’t been able to throw his full weight into his attacks. Only the fact that she was recovering from torture had given him the upper hand that day.

Now, after they’d lived together, slept together, loved each other intensely for years… How could he hurt her?

“It’s over, Weller. I hope you enjoyed what you got, because next time I see you, I will not hesitate to put a bullet in you.” She took a step forward. “Now get out of my way.”

“No.” His voice shook, but somehow, he kept his gun steady. “You’re not walking out of here unless you’re in cuffs.”

Remi took another step forward. “Go on. Shoot me. It’s not like I’m dying or anything.”

“Don’t do this. Please, Jane.” Did he think that by using her name, he’d magically summon her back to the forefront of Remi’s consciousness? He wasn’t that stupid. Still, he had to try.

“Shoot me, or get away from the door.” Remi’s face and voice were expressionless now. It was as though she’d shut down, after finally venting everything she’d wanted to say to him for months. Now she seemed like an emotionless husk. “Don’t make me put you back in the hospital. You know I can.”

He held out the picture of Oscar, a plan forming slowly in his mind. “Want this back?”

She did—desperately, if he could still read her right. She had to get within his reach in order to take the photograph, however, and that worked in his favour.

“Put it on the kitchen counter,” she said, too cautious to allow him the opportunity.

“No.” He let it float to the floor between them, knowing she’d have to drop her guard to pick it up.

Remi sighed. “Sometimes you can be a real dick, Weller.”

“Makes two of us. But I’m not the one who killed your fiancé.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits at that. If looks could have killed, he would have collapsed. But as it was, she crouched and reached for the photo.

Before he could bring himself to make a move—kick Jane in the face? There was no way he could do it—she grabbed his ankle and yanked him off balance, following up with a shoulder-rush to his barely-healed gut to send him crashing to the ground. The gun went off, and his heart jumped into his throat, but Remi didn’t cry out with pain or topple over onto him. She wrenched the gun out of his hand, engaged the safety and tossed it across the room.

“Don’t come after me, Weller. You don’t have it in you to kill me, but I have absolutely nothing left to lose. Remember that.”

And then she’d stalked out of the apartment, taking nothing with her but the photograph of Oscar, and leaving behind her wedding ring for the third time in their marriage.

* * *

**Present day**

Kurt moved around to the other side of Remi’s bed, taking hold of her hand and running his thumb across the delicate silver wedding band on her ring finger.

After they’d finally brought her down, stopped her plan in its tracks and prevented her from breaking her house arrest by way of a radioactive tracker in her bloodstream, he’d told her the ring was in the nightstand on her side of their bed, and that she could take it or leave it. She hadn’t even bothered to acknowledge his words at the time, but now she was wearing it. Had she been wearing it a week ago, when they’d slept together? He didn’t think so.

Remi was here to stay. He accepted that. But the Jane part of her—her experiences and feelings and memories of the past five years—was slowly coming back. He’d seen that softness and vulnerability in her over the past week, and the determination to regain her lost memories. The fact that she’d put on her wedding ring was evidence enough that she remembered enough to feel something more than hatred for him these days.

Could he ever love the combination of Jane and Remi as fiercely as he’d loved Jane? He didn’t know. It wasn’t even worth asking whether he could have loved Remi alone, without any memories of Jane. She wouldn’t have allowed him past her defences enough to get to know her, and even if she had, her need to see the establishment burn would have been too much for him to let her in.

“Remi,” he murmured, squeezing her left hand gently. “I’m heading home for the night, but I’ll be back. Sleep well, my love.”

With a final soft brush of his lips against her forehead, he left the quiet hospital room.


	5. Who Am I?

“We got it, Remi. We found the drive. It was right under our noses this whole time.” For the first time in months, Kurt felt as though things were starting to go their way again. Remi had been in the induced coma for almost a week, while they’d followed clues upon clues of an elaborate treasure hunt that had led them to almost every continent of the world.

“Want to know where it was this whole time? Buried in the potted plant on our bedroom windowsill. Roman made us fly all around the world following clues, just because he could.” He should have been annoyed, even furious, but it was the last puzzle piece they needed to unlock the secret to neutralising the ZIP. He was too relieved to feel much else.

“Patterson’s working with your doctors and the guy Roman was consulting with. They’ll come up with a way to make a cure. I have no idea what it involves—you know how Patterson gets—but I did catch something about making a protein that eats the protein in the ZIP, or…something. It might take a few days, but then they’ll bring you out of the coma to start your treatment.”

He didn’t add that nothing like this had ever been tried before, or that it might not work. Those were details she didn’t need to know.

“How is she?” Allie stood in the doorway, her eyes on Remi. Behind her, Avery gave him a tiny wave and small smile.

“Come on in, you guys. She’s…the same.” He looked over at Allie. “Is Bethany…?”

“Connor took her to the cafeteria. I figured it was best to avoid a repeat of what happened on Tuesday.” Allie rolled her eyes, leaning against the wall.

“What happened on Tuesday?” Avery took the seat Kurt offered her.

Kurt smiled a little, shaking his head. “She wanted to see Mama Jane, but then she got scared by the life support machines and cried her heart out.”

“Awww…” Avery looked as though she was melting at the story. Kurt sensed that within the next decade, he would become a step-grandfather to more than one child—not that he wanted to think about being called ‘Grandpa’ in his early forties. “I guess it’s hard being a three-year-old, huh?”

“I’m just glad Remi didn’t go after her.” Allie shook her head. “Can you imagine the therapy bills if one of her mothers held her hostage?”

“I think Remi had a hard enough childhood that she wouldn’t go after a kid. Not even to hurt me.” Kurt looked over at Avery. “How are you holding up?”

Avery shrugged. “I should be asking _you_ that question, right? She didn’t want to kill _me_.”

A couple of weeks after she’d gone missing, Remi had contacted Avery, asking her to meet without telling the FBI. Avery being Avery, she’d gone without even letting Kurt know first, which he’d already yelled at her for doing. But Remi had just wanted her daughter to know her—what she considered the ‘real’ her—and had tried to explain why she was doing everything she was doing, to get Avery to understand why Remi was the way she was.

“Even so,” Kurt said, “she has to have twisted your head around a little.”

Avery sighed. “I just can’t believe how different she was. How…bitter. I know childhood trauma can change your whole outlook on life, but there was so much hatred in her. So much blame.”

“She was different. The week before we had to bring her here. I didn’t get a chance to tell you before.”

Allie had already heard a little about Remi’s slowly changing outlook, but Avery’s face lit up. “Really? What happened?”

Leaving out the way he and Remi had slept together, Kurt gave her a quick summary of the way Remi had begun getting Jane’s feelings back, if not quite her memories.

“That’s great!” Avery gave him a huge, relieved smile. “We can get Jane back!”

Kurt held up a hand, hating to have to be the cautious adult and ruin her optimism, but not wanting to set her up for disappointment. “I don’t know if Remi with Jane’s memories will ever be as…Jane as Jane was. Jane didn’t have all of her traumatic memories from when she was a kid. And I don’t know if Remi will want to go back to being called Jane, or if she’ll stick with Remi.”

“She should smushname,” Avery said, trying to cover her disappointment. “You know, like Brangelina? She could be…” She took a moment, working through it in her mind. “Jamie!”

Amused, Kurt shook his head. “Let’s let her decide for herself, after we get her better. Okay?”

Avery nodded, her optimism restrained, but not gone.

“Are _you_ doing okay?” Allie said. “I know this has been so hard on you, especially since you only got her back last year.”

Kurt rubbed his forehead wearily. “Good days and bad days. This is one of the better ones. If Patterson can come up with a cure…”

“Then your problems are coming to a middle.” Allie gave him an understanding look. “Got it.”

Kurt nodded, sighing as he looked over at his comatose wife. “I just wish I knew where her personality will settle. Whether she’ll be Jane, but more distrustful of authority—”

“And swearing a lot more,” Avery added.

“Yeah.” Kurt smiled a little before continuing, “Or if she’ll be less recognisable to me.”

“Whether you’ll still love her.” Avery’s eyes widened as she imagined her new family split down the middle, even after the supposed happy ending.

“Love goes both ways, Avery,” Allie said softly. “It might be that Remi wants to move on.”

Avery frowned. “But she’s wearing her wedding ring. I checked. She wasn’t wearing it when she came to see me before, but she is now. That means something, right?”

Kurt cleared his throat, trying to rein in the grief that threatened to overtake him. No matter what happened, he and Jane would never be quite the same, and he would miss who she used to be for the rest of his life. What would happen between him and Remi, he didn’t know. “Let’s just wait and see what happens, okay?”

Avery gave him a quick hug. “I’m sorry. I’m just so confused by all of this. I didn’t think about what came out of my mouth.”

“Do you guys want to go find Bethany?” Allie suggested, and Kurt gave her a grateful glance. Allie knew that having Bethany around was a powerful balm to his emotional wounds, and Avery would most likely be distracted by her stepsister, too.

“Sounds good,” Kurt said, and touched Remi’s hand for a moment before gesturing towards the door. “Let’s go find her.”

* * *

**Six days later…**

She was floating in fog. She didn’t remember anything since she’d screamed herself into oblivion in Weller’s arms, barely registering his reassurances that an ambulance was on its way.

She tried to move around, and her foot found purchase on some kind of ground. Cautiously, she walked through the fog towards a light in the distance, almost having to push through the fog as though it were slowing her down.

She emerged at the outdoor shooting range near Shepherd’s compound to find that, instead of paper targets, the FBI team, Zapata and Nas Kamal were lined up, waiting to be shot. Opposite them, another version of herself was standing by the fence, looking down the barrel of a silver pistol aimed at Weller’s head.

“No!” she called, trying to run forward to stop herself, finding the fog was almost sticky in consistency. “Don’t hurt them!”

Her doppelganger glanced around, rolled her eyes, then fired several times in quick succession.

First Weller fell, a stunned look on his face as the bullet struck him between the eyes. She screamed out with rage and grief, but Patterson was already collapsing beside him, her eyes blank and lifeless. Reade stumbled back from a shot in the neck, keeping his footing for a moment as blood seeped between his fingers, but then he crumpled, landing just right for Zapata to thud down on top of him, clutching her bloody chest. Rich toppled forward, with none of the melodrama he probably would have tried to give his last moments if he could have. Nas was the last to fall, her knees giving out almost gracefully.

Finally, the fog cleared and she could reach her other self, who was nonchalantly reloading the pistol.

“Why would you do that?” she whispered, staring at the bodies of the people she’d grown to love.

“To avenge everyone who mattered.” The doppelganger pointed behind her.

She spun to find another swathe of dead bodies. Oscar, impaled with a scythe and burnt almost beyond recognition. Markos, shot multiple times. Roman, still slumped against the tree that had supported him as he died. Hank Crawford, Parker, Donna Holloran and Danny were all sprawled on the ground nearby, along with the bloodied bodies of the key members of the Viper Kings, and the team of four that Borden had led to try to take Cade from FBI custody.

Shepherd, Eleanor Hirst, Cade and Nigel Thornton were all tethered to chairs in a line, each battered and bloody, with torture implements strewn around the ground at their feet. Zac Riley and Devon sat in a cage nearby, wearing orange prison jumpsuits.

When she looked back at the bodies of Weller and his team, more had appeared. Bethany Mayfair. Stuart, Patterson’s murdered lab tech, and David, her murdered boyfriend. The twelve agents who’d died in the explosion at Shepherd’s compound. Tom Carter. Agent Caruso. Director Pellington.

As she continued looking from one side’s casualties to the other, bodies kept piling up. Some, like her Orion SEAL team, dumped slightly apart from the rest of Weller’s side, were familiar to her. Others, on both sides, were people she didn’t recognise.

Sorrow overwhelmed her as she approached Shepherd’s chair. “So many people are dead or in danger because of you. And you don’t think any of it was your fault, do you?”

“My people died for their country,” Shepherd said, her voice weary but full of injured outrage. “You used to understand that sacrifice.”

“They died for _you_ ,” she said. “For a dream that you sold them, of a country that could be different. But you were just as bad as the people you opposed. Most of our side didn’t even know you planned for Phase Two to be nuclear, did they? No, you kept that _very_ quiet. Not even I knew, and by the time Roman found out, he was too hurt and angry at what I’d done to care. He just wanted you to love him.”

“You were the one who told him Remi was dead,” was all Shepherd said. “I don’t even think you know _who_ you are anymore.”

“She doesn’t,” Nigel said. “She was the one who recruited me, turned me to extremism, and then she turned on all of us.”

“But that was the ZIP. I’m back now,” she protested.

The doppelganger sauntered up, snorting in derision. “No, you’re not. You couldn’t do what needed to be done.”

“Because I got caught by the FBI,” she said, feeling the gazes of the survivors and the dead upon her. “And now the ZIP is killing me.”

Another familiar voice spoke. “But you’re remembering more and more about your life as Jane.”

 _Kurt!_ She spun to find the team alive once more, still surrounded by the bodies of their fallen comrades. Relieved, she ran over and threw herself into his arms.

“I thought she’d killed you,” she whispered.

“They’d be dead, if not for you,” her doppelganger said coldly.

“Actually, it’s more _my_ fault they’re alive.” Another doppelganger stepped out from inside her, making her gasp and jump back from Weller. The second doppelganger leaned in to kiss Weller, and he gazed at her adoringly, as though unaware the others existed.

“So you’re…Jane?” she said slowly, watching the version of herself with Weller.

“And I’m Remi. Fuck knows who you are. But you’re the one who gets to have a life. Congratulations.” The other doppelganger, the one who’d shot the team, scowled at her.

“I…” She stared from Jane to Remi, confused and conflicted. “But…”

“Don’t mind me. I’m going to go stand in the middle of the wreckage _she_ left of my life.” Remi shot a hateful look at Jane, then went to stand at Shepherd’s side.

She looked back at Jane, who had her arms around Weller. “It should be you who gets to live. He loves you so much.”

Jane sighed. “I did what I could, but the old memories were always going to come back one day. I thought it would be gradual, not a hostile takeover”—she glared at Remi—“but now that she’s out of the box, she’s not going back in. But neither am I. So you’re the result.”

“Who am I?” she whispered.

It was Weller who answered. “You’re you. Whatever you decide to call yourself. You’ll have all of your memories back, from being Remi and from being Jane. I don’t know how that feels. I don’t know if you’ll still want to be with me, or stay with the FBI, or go back to eating vegan. Maybe you’ll always be more Remi than Jane, but you know I’ve always thought that Remi had as much good in her as bad.”

“This country—this _world_ —is so broken and corrupt. There are so many injustices, so much inequality.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what to think, how to deal with it.”

“Tear it all down. Do whatever it takes,” Remi said. Beside her, Shepherd gave her an approving smile.

“Do what you can to help.” Jane’s voice was determined. “That’s how we fight. And the more people who fight with us—for justice, not terror—the more we can win.” At her side, Weller squeezed her hand.

“I don’t know where to stand,” she said.

“With the people who understand your pain,” Remi insisted.

“With the people who love you,” Jane said softly.

More people appeared by Jane’s side. Allie, Connor and Bethany. Avery. Sarah and Sawyer Weller. Afreen. Brianna. Boston. Clem. A few of the other friends she’d made on her journey around the globe.

She looked back at Remi, standing with Shepherd in a field of dead bodies. Cade and Nigel were separate, closer to the cage that held Riley and Devon now.

Remi rolled her eyes. “Please don’t fucking tell me the power of love is going to distract you from what you’re meant to do.”

“You’re meant to have a life. Use your skills to help people, but don’t throw away the good things in life for people who’ll throw _you_ away if you screw up.” Jane said.

“You don’t have to decide now,” Weller added. “Just be yourself, whoever you think that is. Figure out what’s important to you.”

Behind her, Remi let out a stream of curses. “They’re all dead. Oscar is dead. Roman. They’re the only ones who understood you. Don’t turn your backs on them!”

“Their deaths weren’t the team’s fault. Going after Weller and his people for revenge makes no sense, because if anyone’s responsible for what happened, it’s Shepherd, and it’s Remi, and it’s me, and it’s them.” Jane shrugged sadly. “Oscar was going to erase my memory again because he didn’t like the loyalties I’d chosen. Roman was hurting, grieving for Remi and Shepherd, and he made some bad choices while he was reacting to that. Their deaths were down to their own actions. I didn’t go after them unprovoked, and at the end, Roman and I made peace.”

Caught between Remi and Jane, she covered her face with her hands, her head aching. “Everything is so hard. I still don’t know who I am.”

Weller’s voice was closer now. “It’s okay. You have time to decide where you stand. And I’ll be right here with you.”

She looked up, to find that she and Weller were alone with Remi and Jane now. She glanced to either side of her, at both conflicting identities. Simultaneously, both of them walked towards her, to merge into her.

And then Weller pulled her into his arms, his embrace comforting and tight and wonderful. Tears prickled her eyelids as she clung to him, and suddenly, she was certain of one thing.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“Then start there,” he said, drawing back a little to gaze at her with so much love, her heart ached.

She smiled, swallowing a sob. “You’re my starting point. Again.”

“You should tell the real Weller that.” He stepped out of her arms and backwards, into the fog. She wanted to go after him, call for him to come back, but she couldn’t move or speak.

Though he was quickly obscured by the mist around them, his voice reached her. “Wake up, my love. Please.”


	6. Results

It had been almost two hours since the doctors had predicted Remi would wake up. Patterson, Reade and Rich were waiting down the hall, while Kurt was keeping vigil. For the first thirty minutes or so, he’d watched her face, hoped to feel her fingers twitch against his palm—anything that might signify her return to awareness, he’d take. But now, his hopes were growing dim. The doctors had said a natural coma had replaced the drug-induced one, and there was no way to predict if or when she’d wake up from it.

After they’d come so far, after everything they’d fought for and battled through, was this really the way it was going to end? With his wife in a coma she might never leave, connected to life support machines until he had to give up hope and give permission for the doctors to turn them off? He couldn’t accept that, but neither Remi nor Jane would want to exist like this.

Fighting back tears, he released her hand so that he could lean back in the chair, stretching the stiff muscles attached to his spine. Remi didn’t stir.

“Anything?” Patterson said softly, looking around the doorframe.

Kurt shook his head, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “Not yet.”

Stricken, she crossed to stand beside him and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Weller. Don’t give up hope yet. There are variations on the formula we can try, but we’ll have to wait until this dose is out of her system, first.”

“Don’t worry about me, Patterson.” He gave her as much of a smile as he could muster—not much, but it was there. “I know you’ve worked as hard as you can on this. How are you holding up?”

Patterson shrugged. “I don’t know. I actually came in here to get away from Rich and Reade—they’re having an argument about your capacity for forgiveness and whether Remi’s gonna turn around and stick a knife in your back.”

Kurt groaned. “It’s not the first time I’ve had to listen to it. And I get where Reade’s coming from. I do. I just…”

“Love her.” Patterson said, smiling sadly. “I know. Back before we knew who she was, I think she kept her cover intact so well because so much of her _is_ Jane. I mean, so much of how she moves, how she speaks, that sort of thing. I guess none of those unconscious things got affected by the ZIP. So a lot of the things you fell in love with are still there, whether she’s Remi or Jane. Except…her mind. Jane wasn’t so homicidal.”

“Yeah. But Remi didn’t have Jane’s memories. She was starting to get there, though. There were moments where she let me in, and I could almost…” He gave up trying to explain it, knowing Patterson would notice those moments for herself if Remi ever got close enough to her. If she ever woke up. “Anyway. Reade’s just worried about what Remi will do to Tasha.”

“Do you think he needs to be?” Patterson asked.

Kurt watched his wife for a moment before shaking his head. “Not now. A few weeks ago, definitely. But unless the cure undoes the way she was just before we had to put her in a coma, I’d say she might not ever like Tasha, might have issues working with her, but she wouldn’t actually attack her.”

“I think we all have issues working with Tasha these days,” Patterson said, a little bitterly.

“Understandable. But we got through when Jane was the one in her position. We’ll get back to normal again. We’re family.”

“I was thinking—” Patterson interrupted herself with a quick gasp, her eyes on Remi. “Weller, look.”

Remi gave a soft groan, covering her eyes with her hands. Kurt was paralysed for a moment, unable to reassure her. _She’s awake. She’s really awake._

“I’ll get the nurse,” Patterson said, and rushed out.

Kurt closed the blinds, kicking himself for not thinking about the light levels in the room sooner. Then he returned to Remi’s side. “Hey.”

She experimentally uncovered one eye, then both, opening her eyes cautiously.

“For a while, there, I thought you weren’t gonna wake up.”

Remi focused on his face, then touched the tube preventing her from speaking, her expression frustrated.

“I know. Just hang on. The nurse will be here soon.” He took her hand and squeezed reassuringly, then smiled when she squeezed back.

After a moment, her expression changed—though it was hard to read because of the life support apparatus—and her eyes filled with tears. Kurt sat on the edge of the bed, concerned.

“Is the pain bad?”

Remi shook her head, then after a slight hesitation, took his hand and placed it over her heart. For a moment, so focused on what might be wrong, he thought she was trying to draw his attention to her heart rate, but her heartbeat was steady against his palm and the machine that measured her pulse was still steady.

Then he made the connection—just before she’d started to scream out in pain, she’d put her hand on his chest and then struggled upright, as though the movement had triggered a memory. Now she was holding his hand to her own chest.

“You remembered?” he said, hardly daring to hope.

Remi gave a small nod, blinking away her tears.

Before he could say anything else, the nurse on duty and one of Remi’s doctors bustled in and asked him to wait in the waiting area down the hall, while they checked on their patient and removed the life support. Kurt reluctantly left the room, promising he’d be back as soon as he was allowed.

For what seemed like an eternity, he waited with Patterson, Reade and Rich, who all expressed their relief that Remi was awake with various degrees of enthusiasm, Rich’s being the most emphatic. Kurt could barely focus on their conversation, too preoccupied by the memories Remi might have regained to say much.

When the nurse finally called him back into the room, he noticed with relief that the tube preventing her from speaking had been removed. Remi gave him a weary smile and greeted him with a soft, scratchy, “Hi.”

“Is it working?” Kurt asked the doctor, taking Remi’s hand again. “Is it too soon to tell?”

“A little too soon,” the doctor said apologetically, looking from him to Remi and back, “but since you’re not in much pain, Ms. Doe-Weller, that’s a positive sign. We’ll have to check the levels of ZIP in your blood in a few more hours, but until then, try to rest.”

They both thanked the doctor, but remained quiet until he’d shut the door behind him, their eyes on each other. When they were alone again, Kurt sat back on the side of the bed. “I know you shouldn’t talk too much just yet, but…”

“Starting point,” she half-whispered, her voice still recovering from the tube.

Kurt smiled, his breath rushing out of him in a relieved sigh. “You remembered.”

“I remember a lot of things now. Don’t know if it’s everything. Weller… _Kurt_ …” Her eyes filled with tears again. “I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head. “I’m just happy you’re awake.”

She closed her eyes, and a tear fell. Kurt gently wiped it away with the pad of his thumb, wishing he could take away her distress.

“The things I did to you,” she whispered, her face becoming more distraught by the moment. “The things I _said_ …”

“We can talk about this when you’re stronger. Don’t worry about it for now.” He leaned down to kiss her forehead.

She scrubbed at her tearstained face, nodding. “Okay. But you’re…” She cleared her throat, looking uncomfortable, as he waited. “I was wrong. You’re not nothing to me.”

He took her left hand and studied the ring there, trying not to show how much her words meant to him. “I noticed you were wearing this. When did you put it back on?”

“Last night.” Realising her mistake, she corrected herself. “The night before I collapsed.”

“I’m glad you did,” he confessed, wishing he didn’t feel so vulnerable. It was something he would have been able to say without thinking to Jane, but Remi was different. “It helped me get through the time you were unconscious, knowing that you don’t completely hate me anymore.”

Remi’s face fell. “I don’t. But you should hate _me_.”

Kurt shrugged. “Maybe I should. But I don’t. I’m not saying things are completely okay between us, but…let’s see what happens.”

Remi opened her mouth, then shut it again, her eyes filling with an intense, conflicted look that he couldn’t quite identify. Whatever she wanted to say, she’d obviously decided against it, so he let it go for now.

He brought her up to speed on the hunt for the last drive. As he revealed where it had been all along—buried in the soil of the potted plant in their bedroom—Remi grinned, looking down at her lap. “Yeah, that sounds like Roman. I’d say I’m sorry for the waste of FBI resources looking for it all over the world, but…I’m not Jane.”

Kurt shook his head, unsurprised. “I know.”

Remi gave him a quick, uncertain glance before dropping her gaze again. “I don’t think I’m Remi, either.”

Before he could respond, Patterson returned to the room, an apologetic smile on her face. “Hey, Remi. Good to see you’re awake.”

Remi looked a little stunned by the kind words. “Umm, thanks. For everything you’ve done.”

After a quick nod of acknowledgement, Patterson handed a bottle of water to Kurt. “Could you make sure she drinks this?”

Guessing it was more of the radioactive tracker that had prevented her from slipping out of house arrest, Kurt frowned. “She’s been bedbound for the past two weeks. I don’t think she can even stand up unassisted right now, let alone—”

“Kurt, it’s fine.” Remi put her hand on his arm. “They have to be cautious.”

“Thanks,” Patterson said softly, moving back towards the door. “I’ll leave you two alone now.”

Still a little pissed off, Kurt opened the bottle and transferred the drinking straw from the glass of water the nurse had left, into the tracker drink. He held it while Remi took a few swallows, then put it down as she sank back against the pillows as though just that had exhausted her.

“Ugh, I think I might need to sleep for a while,” she said, seeming annoyed by the idea. “I just woke up, but… Goddamn it.”

“It’s okay. Get some rest. Let the cure do its thing. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

* * *

Kurt was as good as his word. When she woke up several hours later, he was still by her bedside, reading something on his phone.

He looked up when Remi made a small noise as she stretched out her arms, one after the other. Everything ached, but the softness in Kurt’s eyes as he looked at her made everything somehow more bearable.

“Hey. The doctors want to take your blood for testing now you’re awake—see if the cure works.” He pressed the call button beside her bed.

Remi sighed. “Do you think they’ll let me go home soon?”

Kurt raised an eyebrow, amused. “I thought you ‘fucking hate this fucking apartment’?”

Recalling her furious words a couple of days into her house arrest, Remi sighed. “I did when I said it. And I’ll probably get sick of not being allowed to leave pretty quickly, but for now, I kind of…miss it.”

She was starting to love the way Kurt’s face subtly lit up when she said something positive about their life together. It could get addictive.

The nurse came in to take her blood, and then they waited, talking about small, inconsequential things to avoid thinking about the result that would either lift a huge burden or shatter their hopes. As Kurt made a passing reference to their wedding, a memory clicked into place, and she slapped his arm in admonishment.

“ _Wind Beneath My Wings_ was _not_ our first dance!”

Kurt stared at her for a moment, uncomprehending, then burst out laughing.

“You were testing me,” she guessed. “Seeing where I’d slip up by agreeing about something that didn’t happen.”

He shrugged, unrepentant. “I needed proof that you weren’t Jane.”

“I’m still not Jane, but I do have her memories now. And she thought that song was as cheesy and cliché as I do. I mean, Remi did. I don’t know.”

“I’m so glad you remember.” He held her hand between both of his and kissed it gently, tears in his eyes.

Tentatively, Remi reached out a hand to stroke his face. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch, his stubble delightfully scratchy against her fingers, and her heart swelled in a way she’d thought she’d never feel again after Oscar. The inner conflict was still there—part of her screaming that this man had ruined her life—but it was so easy to ignore when he reacted like this, as though her touch was healing something that the old Remi had broken. It was an intoxicating feeling.

A brisk knock made her pull back her hand immediately, and Kurt straightened up as the doctor walked in, a clipboard in hand and a smile on his face.

Too nervous to speak, Remi waited, glad of Kurt’s hand in hers.

“I have good news for you, folks. It looks like the experimental treatment is working. Of course, we won’t be able to give you any kind of all-clear for a few weeks, but with a couple more doses we should be able to purge the ZIP from your system entirely.”

Remi exhaled hard, squeezing Kurt’s hand. Beside her, he was staring at the doctor as though he didn’t even dare to hope he’d heard right, and Remi’s gut churned as she imagined everything she’d put him through over the past five years. He must be afraid to believe the nightmare was almost over.

“Kurt. It’s okay. It’s working. I’m going to live.” She struggled upright, which broke whatever half-trance he’d fallen into—he immediately focused on her, trying to make her lie down again. As soon as he got close enough, Remi wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him, to reassure him as much as to celebrate.

He wrapped his arms around her and held tightly, not saying a word.

Over his shoulder, Remi met the doctor’s eyes and murmured, “Thank you. Would you mind giving us a second?”

The doctor gave an understanding nod and quietly left as Remi began to stroke Kurt’s hair. He finally let go of his shaky breath, but didn’t inhale another. Her heart ached as she realised he was struggling not to break down.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s gonna be okay, Kurt.”

As her husband broke down and sobbed like a child in her arms, Remi’s own tears fell. She could have a life now, the way the Jane in her dream had told her to. The way the old Remi would never have believed possible.

She just had to figure out what she wanted to do with it.


	7. Free

**Seven months later…**

“So, you’re officially a free woman. What’s next?” Kurt dropped his keys in their usual spot, and moved into the kitchen to put on some coffee.

Anything to have his back to Remi while she answered. He was already pretty sure of the answer, and it had been eating him up inside for weeks. But whatever she needed to do, he’d support it. There was no other choice. Opposition would only irritate her and drive her away, maybe for good this time.

Remi sighed, and he heard her settle down on the couch. “I need to get out of here, Kurt. I know it’s not fair to you, after everything you’ve done for me and everything I’ve put you through, but I’ve been under house arrest here for so long, it feels like a damn prison, not a home.”

“I know,” he said quietly, swallowing his disappointment. “I understand.”

“And I need…” She paused, and he glanced around to find her staring at the living room ceiling, a frown on her face. “I need some time. To myself. To get out in the world and really figure out who I am, you know?”

“Do you remember what you said to me when I brought you back from Nepal? Not long after we got back?” As the smell of fresh coffee began to spread through the apartment, he sat down on the arm of the couch, giving her space.

Remi looked up at him, her expression a little wary, as though she feared she might be failing a test to make sure her memory hadn’t lapsed. “I said a lot of things back then.”

“You said that while you were away, it was like part of you woke up again.” It had hurt him to hear that part of her had relished being off on her own, travelling the world. He’d been so happy to have her back, though, he hadn’t picked a fight with her over it at the time, and he wouldn’t now, either. “I guess you just need your freedom. It’s in your nature.”

“Yeah,” Remi said softly. “Maybe. But… I don’t remember my first home or my birth parents all that well, and after the orphanage, when Shepherd took us in, growing up in a military family meant we moved around a lot. Home used to be wherever Roman was. But now…”

For a moment she paused, not meeting his eyes, seeming to struggle with something. Finally, she looked up again, her face troubled. “It feels so disloyal to Roman to say it, but since I became Jane, home was where you were. Not this apartment, not to start with. The NYO was where I interacted with you most, and that was home. Then after we got together, it was here. Then the house in Colorado, back to here, and then the old Remi came back. I hated everything about this place, because I could tell, even before I started to actually feel it, that Jane had been so happy here.”

“And now you just hate it because you haven’t been allowed to leave for almost a year.”

“But it’s still home.” She reached over, laid a warm hand on his thigh, and he tried not to betray how much the simple touch meant to him. “I just need to start thinking of it that way again, and not as a prison.”

He slid his hand over hers, trying to reassure her that he understood. “I get it. Really. Part of me thinks I should have just let you spend the length of your trial in jail, just so you had this place to come home to.”

She shook her head. “I’m glad you didn’t. Roman was the real claustrophobe after the orphanage, but enclosed spaces aren’t my favourite thing.”

Kurt got up and fixed them both coffee, then sat beside Remi, who didn’t move away when his arm grazed hers. The old, homicidal Remi had been all-or-nothing with physical contact since she’d given up playing at being Jane—flinching away from his touch unless she’d been demanding sex from him, which he’d come to realise had partly been a defensive tactic meant to keep him away. Since she’d been cured of the ZIP poisoning, she’d become much less skittish, but had kept her distance from him when it came to more than hugs, and occasional kisses on the cheek or the top of her head.

He’d been glad at first, still hesitant to fully trust her, wanting to protect his heart from being ground under Remi’s boot heel once again. But as her trial had stretched on and he’d watched her try to explain to the jury how getting her memories back in full had changed her outlook on life, he’d wished he could take her mind off it, ease her stress. Not to mention his own.

He couldn’t even fathom what it must be like inside her head. She’d told him a while back that the old Remi was like her personal demon, screaming at her to hate him, to blame him, to make him pay for what had become of her family. “It’s not a dissociative thing,” she’d assured him. “If I hadn’t lived through two different identities like I have, I wouldn’t even call it Remi. It’d just be my angry side, my spiteful side, the side of me that won’t stop grieving. I know everyone has one of those, because Jane had one, and so did Remi.”

He’d nodded, thinking of the years he’d carried around his hatred and blame for his father, his longing to go back to the past and prevent Taylor’s death.

“They’ve kind of joined together in me to create this angry, fearful, negative reaction that I call Remi. But the side I call Jane is all of Remi’s and Jane’s good feelings, their hope, their love, their determination to make up for all the bad in me. And they balance out. More than balance out, because it’s like that story about the two wolves. The one you feed is the one that gets stronger? Jane is the one I feed. And you feed her, too.”

Kurt didn’t want to push her into anything she wasn’t ready for, and so they’d fallen back into the same kind of pattern they’d had before they’d admitted their feelings for each other—a charged kind of friendship, with tentative moments that could have bloomed into more if either of them had broken out of that holding pattern. But he hadn’t, because it was her call. And she’d seemed content to stay where they were for now. He’d picked up a day bed for Bethany’s room, and had been sleeping in there for several months. It was a little more comfortable than the couch.

Remi sipped her coffee, more relaxed than she had been in weeks. They’d just been out to lunch to celebrate with Avery, Allie and Bethany—the first social gathering she’d been allowed since her house arrest had begun. Later tonight, they were meeting Rich, Patterson and Reade for drinks. Tasha had been back in New York for a couple of months now, and she and Reade were together, but Remi couldn’t move past the way she’d engineered Roman’s death, so Tasha was staying home tonight.

“So, how does it feel to have officially been ruled temporarily insane?” Kurt asked.

Jane snorted. “I never thought I’d say this, but pretty damn good, actually. I guess my case has officially set a precedent for cases pertaining to ZIP overdoses.”

“Hopefully there won’t be any copycats. There’s more than one reason we made sure this case stayed out of the public eye.” Kurt shook his head.

“I thought my doctors were gonna cry when we told them they couldn’t write a book about my condition.” Remi grinned.

“It was pretty unique.”

Remi hadn’t held out much hope at first, when her lawyer had suggested a plea of temporary insanity. But with the doctors’ testimony, plus those of Kurt, Reade, Patterson and Rich, the defence had managed to put together a compelling portrait of Jane as opposed to Remi. The fact that the ZIP had now been purged from her system, along with the revelation that Remi now had the whole of her memories intact, had helped to convince the jury that she was no longer a threat.

There had been a shaky moment when the prosecutor had demanded to know why Remi was still using her ‘terrorist name’, and Kurt had been afraid it would sway the jury, but Remi had answered honestly, and it had been obvious. “I was Alice for ten years of my life, Remi for twenty, and Jane for five. Now that all of my memories are back, I’ve stuck with Remi because that’s the name I’ve had for longest. I might change it in the future, but while this trial is going on, it seems like it would only confuse matters to add yet another identity for the jury to remember.”

They drank their coffee in silence for a while, before Kurt could no longer keep himself from asking, “Can I ask where you’re gonna go?”

Remi smiled a little. “I’ve had a lot of time to consider my options. I think I’m gonna go back to South Africa for a little while. Back to where everything started, and Roman…” She shook her head, then continued, “Then it kind of depends what kind of conclusions I come to out there. I have a few routes planned out, based on what questions I most want to answer about myself. I’m sorry I can’t be more specific.”

He took her hand and squeezed it. “I’ll miss you.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed. “And I’ll miss you. Not this place, but…you.”

Unable to help himself, he tilted her face up with gentle fingers, to look down at her. She gazed up at him, the warmth in her eyes soothing his aching heart a little. When Remi had been pretending to be Jane, she’d gotten everything right except that undercurrent of affection. It had bugged him for weeks before he’d realised that was what was missing.

Since just before the ZIP had been neutralised, that warmth had returned, and even now, more than half a year later, it still gave him butterflies every time he saw it. It was the Jane part of her shining through, and it killed him not to be able to kiss her the way he used to.

“Are you really gonna come back?” he asked, his words a little less casual than he’d been aiming for.

“Yes. I swear. I’ll be home for…” She thought about it for a moment, frowning. “Three days after Thanksgiving. Does that work for you?”

He blinked at the randomness of the chosen date. “Why not just pick Thanksgiving?”

“Because I want you to go spend it with Bethany, or the team, or Avery, or your sister.” She shrugged. “I kind of hate that holiday. I know Jane liked it, but I just have a lot of issues with it. Shepherd…” She shook her head. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” He brushed a stray hair back from her face. “Three days after Thanksgiving. I’ll be here, waiting for you.”

“Thank you,” she almost whispered. “For giving me time.”

He leaned in closer, and her breath hitched as he brushed a light kiss over her forehead, the closest he ever got to kissing her these days. “You’re welcome.”

For a moment they were close enough that it would have been easy, so easy, to press his lips to hers. He hesitated, looking for a sign that she’d welcome the advance, but though there was longing in her eyes, he sensed her defences rising, too. Now wasn’t the time.

He pulled back, sipped his coffee, and the moment was lost. Less than twenty-four hours later, she was bound for South Africa, and he was left wondering if she’d really come back.


	8. Home

**Three days after Thanksgiving—almost three months later**

She paused, her key to the apartment held a fraction of an inch from the lock, and took a deep breath. What if Kurt had decided he’d had enough of her bullshit, and wanted to move on? What if he’d found someone else? Someone less broken, less of a contradiction, more reliable?

 _I’ll be here, waiting for you._ It had been something to hold onto as she’d travelled—from South Africa back to Nepal, then to Japan and Berlin before ending up, almost inevitably, in Venice, where Kurt had proposed to her, and where she’d ‘died’ to get the bounty off her head.

Revisiting the memories each place held had laid some unanswered questions to rest in her mind, and the travel had quieted that part of her that had raged and kicked and screamed the whole time she was restricted from leaving Kurt’s apartment. _Their_ apartment. After almost a quarter of a year on the move, picturing the rooms of this place no longer made her want to escape, though she wasn’t sure what effect actually stepping through the door would have.

_Time to find out._

She ran her fingers quickly through her jaw-length hair—it had grown over the past year, but she’d only just felt the need to crop it back to how short it had once been—and finally fitted the key into the lock.

The apartment was different.

She recognised a lot of their belongings from before—some of the furniture, most of the kitchenware she could see at a glance—but the walls were green instead of blue, and all the soft furnishings were new to complement them. Instead of white, the kitchen tiles were a soft grey.

She set down her bag and walked slowly around the kitchen and living area, absorbing the new details. The apartment was still familiar, but things were different enough that she didn’t even feel a twinge of foreboding at re-entering the space she’d been confined to for so many long months.

Distantly, she heard the shower running. Trust her to arrive at the one moment Kurt would be too busy to greet her when she walked in.

She wandered through to Bethany’s room, finding it much the same as she remembered. She’d never spent much time in there during her house arrest, so Kurt must have decided not to change it.

Her pulse sped up a little as she entered the bedroom. _Their_ bedroom, once. Then it had been hers alone once he’d caught on to her deception and the house arrest had begun, but before that…

She took off her boots and jacket, then lay on her back on the bed, closing her eyes and smiling a little. Kurt must have started sleeping in here again once she’d left. The bedding she was lying on was fresh—she could still smell the laundry detergent—but she could still faintly detect his unique, musky scent in the room.

Opening her eyes again, she cast an approving eye over the new décor—latte and mint with deep, chocolatey brown accents. It reminded her of a room she’d admired in a magazine a few months back. Knowing Kurt, he’d probably remembered.

The shower shut off, and she sprang to her feet, not wanting to greet him while lounging on the bed. That would be a little presumptuous.

She grabbed her boots and jacket and headed back into the living room, stashing them in their proper places just as he came down the hall, wearing only a towel around his waist.

“Remi, you made it.”

Was she really about to have this conversation with him while he was so…naked? Especially considering the last time they’d had a conversation while he was wearing a towel?Trying not to show how nervous she was, she stepped forward to greet him. “Actually…it’s Jane.”

He watched her, tension held in his shoulders, as though he wasn’t sure what she was saying. She couldn’t read his expression, and that was probably intentional. Sometimes, when he didn’t want her to know what he was feeling, he could manage a poker face for two or three minutes before he’d slip up and she’d be able to figure it out.

She wasn’t about to wait that long to read him. “I travelled to a lot of places,” she said, following the script she’d planned on her way home. “Put some puzzle pieces together in my head, and… Jane was the best version of me. I want to carry on at the FBI, or if that’s not an option, maybe become a private investigator, do some activism in my free time... And I know I’m not ever going to be the Jane that you lost, not completely. But if you’ll let me come home—”

Without a word, Kurt pulled her into his arms. He was still damp from the shower, and she couldn’t help but laugh as her cheek met droplets of water he hadn’t yet dried off, but his embrace was like a true homecoming, warm and accepting and unconditionally loving.

She fought back tears, clinging to him, as he murmured, “Jane. That’s what you want me to call you?”

“If it’s okay with you,” she said hesitantly. “But if you’d rather not…”

Kurt pulled back enough to look into her face. “You _are_ Jane. You remember all the time we’ve shared, everything we’ve experienced together. Back when you couldn’t remember most of your past, you were slowly getting those memories back. Eventually, you would have ended up this way even if the ZIP poisoning hadn’t made things more complicated.”

Jane searched his face for any hint of uncertainty or deception, but found none. He was watching her with such love, so clearly glad she was here with him.

“Okay,” she murmured, smiling. “Then I guess I’m home.”

“I’m gonna go get dressed,” he said. “Then I want to hear about your trip.”

She watched him turn and walk down the hall, frozen for a second. He was her husband, he’d come out to welcome her home the second he’d realised she was back, wearing nothing but a towel…and she was going to do nothing but just hug him hello?

He couldn’t have been any more understanding or any more accommodating of her needs. It was time she got over herself and stopped holding back.

“Kurt?” She called, just before he reached the bedroom door.

He turned, ready as always to hear what she needed, the remnants of his smile still on his face.

Jane crossed the distance between them swiftly, not giving herself time to change her mind. She slid her hand to the back of his neck and brushed her lips tentatively against his, unsure if he was ready to go back to this level of intimacy so soon after her return.

Kurt broke the kiss after a moment, searching her expression for one long, charged instant. Then he drew her into a kiss so heated and desperate that she gasped, swaying forward to kiss him back with just as much force.

He lifted her effortlessly and carried her into their bedroom, the move reminding her of their first time together. This time, though, when he allowed her to slide down his body so that her feet touched the ground, she sank all the way to her knees, taking the towel that had been around his waist with her.

“I was just about to ask you if I was moving too fast, but…” he started, but then trailed off with a soft groan as she gave the head of his cock a teasing lick.

He tangled his fingers in her hair, silently encouraging her as she took him into her mouth. How long had it been since she’d last tasted him? It must have been almost a year, maybe even more. She didn’t even have to wonder if he’d been with anyone else while they’d been abstinent—he took his marriage vows seriously.

Although she’d thought about it a lot while she’d been under house arrest, she hadn’t been able to bring herself even to kiss him since she’d gotten her memories back. She’d been so confused by everything, hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up that she was staying when part of her wanted to flee, and that had resulted in them acting like they were just friends for what seemed like an eternity.

She wasn’t confused anymore. Her doubts were gone, her inner demons were temporarily silent, and she was completely focused on enjoying her homecoming. Still on her knees, she sucked and licked and stroked Kurt’s cock until his thighs began to tremble and he pulled her to her feet with a breathless, “Not yet.”

Jane wrapped her arms around his neck and lost herself in his kisses as he pulled off her clothing, unwinding from him just enough that he could get rid of various items before they fell together onto the bed.

Kurt pulled her on top of him for another fierce, needy kiss, then urged her up onto her knees. When he slid down the bed, simultaneously nudging her further up his body, a thrill of anticipation rippled through her.

Careful not to smother him, she lowered herself within reach of his talented mouth, grabbing the headboard for balance as he tasted her. He knew her body so well that he could have gotten her off within a minute—but he teased her instead, ratcheting up her anticipation with kisses and nips before giving her clit a couple of delicious moments of attention, then trailed off again as she gasped obscenities and tried not to just grind down against his mouth. When he slipped a finger inside her to tease the sweet spot that made everything so much more intense, she almost sobbed his name, biting back a torrent of pleas.

He finally showed her mercy, focusing on her clit and stroking over her G-spot until she forgot herself and ground down against his tongue, her head thrown back as she shook with the force of her climax. Kurt didn’t stop, didn’t try to ease her up again, just let her take what she wanted as she writhed against his mouth. A second orgasm built quickly, and as she shattered again with a sharp, triumphant cry, he eased out from under her, only to flip her onto her back on the bed and bury his face between her legs again.

“Oh, no… I can’t…” She lifted her head, already knowing he’d be watching her, relishing every movement she made, savouring every gasp and sigh.

His mouth was occupied, but his eyes were amused, and she could practically hear his thoughts. _Yeah, you can. And you will._

And she did, grabbing fistfuls of the blanket beneath her as the ecstasy built to an almost violent crescendo, swift but intense. As soon as she could think again, she reached down to his head, unsure if she was encouraging him or trying to push him away.

He pushed two fingers inside her, three, targeting just the perfect spot as he gave her clit the lightest, most frustrating kiss.

“No,” she gasped out. “No teasing, not now…”

His laughter vibrated through her clit as he heeded her words, letting her grind against his tongue as he fucked her with his hand. It seemed to take forever to build up to the fourth orgasm, but it was worth the wait, rolling over her in strong waves that tried to push out his fingers.

“Kurt… Come here…”

Breathlessly, she reached for him, and he moved up into her embrace, his kiss tasting of her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, silently inviting him to take her, and as he pushed deep inside her, she wondered how she could have waited all those months.

Remembering what she’d asked him the last time they’d done this, she asked, “Think I’ll fuck like Jane again?”

Kurt gazed down at her, amusement and desire in his eyes. “I’ll let you know when we’re done.”

Then they were moving together, friction and heat, ebb and flow, finding their rhythm as easily as if they’d never been apart. Jane slid her hands down to his ass, up his back, over his shoulders, relearning the feel of his muscles as he took her with steady thrusts that reignited the need he’d quenched with his tongue.

As if he could sense her mounting urgency, he increased his pace, giving her a quick, hard kiss before lifting his head to watch her unravel. She gazed up at him as they rocked together, tracing his stubbled jaw with her fingers before gripping his ass again, pulling him in as deep as she could.

“I missed you so much,” he told her, his voice husky.

She nodded agreement, too overcome by the moment to speak, her climax almost within reach. Reading her body’s cues, Kurt began to take her faster, more forcefully, and she held him close, loving the feel of his chest brushing her sensitive nipples every time he moved. He drove her over the edge within a few more seconds, and she clung to him as though he was her lifeline, riding it out as the sensations overwhelmed her.

Exhausted and fulfilled, she dug her nails into his ass, knowing the tiny taste of pain would push him into his own climax. As he groaned her name and ground his hips against hers, spilling within her, she murmured wordless appreciation against his neck.

Last time they’d done this, they’d separated as soon as possible, lying side by side on the bed and wishing things were different. This time, Kurt rolled onto his back with Jane held securely against him, and she lifted her head to smile down at him.

His eyes were a little glazed with pleasure as he told her, “Yeah. That was definitely Jane.”

“That was only one of the many positions that we need to test out, though.” She kissed him again.

“I’m gonna need a minute,” he told her, a little regretfully.

“That’s okay. I’ll probably need an hour.” She snuggled against him, thoroughly satisfied.

After a couple of minutes, as he pulled a blanket over their cooling bodies, Kurt said, “I know it might be a little too soon to say it, and I don’t expect you to say anything back. But…I still love you. The way you are now.”

Feeling the mild sting of tears against her eyelids, Jane turned her head to stare at him. “Kurt…”

He gave her a quick kiss, quieting her, then tucked the blanket in against her shoulder before lying down again. “I know you hated the house arrest, and I know we kept our distance from each other for a long time. But I never stopped loving you. Even when I wasn’t sure you’d ever remember our life together.”

Remi would have considered him weak, foolish, easy to manipulate. Jane knew that, but felt none of it. She had Remi’s memories, but her past self was wrong.

Kurt was strong, and his love for her made him stronger. The trust he was placing in her humbled her, and for a moment she was speechless.

Then she knew she had to stomp down on that final part of Remi that was still dominant inside her. The part that was afraid to let other people get close. It had kept her from voicing her true feelings since she’d woken up in the hospital, but when the alternative was letting Kurt doubt how she felt about him, she could no longer be silent.

“I love you,” she said, her voice close to breaking. “I love you so much.”

His smile made her heart skip as he pulled her close, stroking her hair as she snuggled against him. As though he sensed she had more to say, he waited for her to gather her thoughts.

“I had a dream while I was coming out of the coma.” In as few words as she could, she explained the way she’d seen Remi and Jane, and the bodies piled up on either side of the conflict with Sandstorm. The way Jane had told her to fight for justice, not terror. The way Remi had stood with Shepherd, defiant and self-righteous in a field of corpses.

“And then it was just you and me. You told me I had to decide where I stand, but that you’d be with me the whole way. And you hugged me, and that was when I realised it wasn’t just Jane that loved you. It was the new me too, the combination of Remi’s memories and Jane’s. I woke up knowing that I loved you.”

Kurt hadn’t interrupted as she’d talked, but now she’d finished, he turned her face to his for a soft, lingering kiss. “You kept quiet for a long time.”

“I was scared,” she admitted, a little ashamed. “I wasn’t sure who I was going to be, what I was going to do with my life, if I was gonna end up in supermax... I didn’t want to get your hopes up that things were going back to normal if that couldn’t happen.”

Kurt gave her a knowing look. “And you were afraid I’d tell you I could only love you if Remi wasn’t such a big part of you.”

She closed her eyes, facing the truth that she’d tried to keep hidden even from herself. “Yeah. I was.”

Kurt kissed her again, more firmly than before. It matched his tone when he said, “I love you unconditionally. Sure, when you had no memories of being Jane and were running around New York planning to explode things, that made it pretty difficult to _like_ you. I sure as hell didn’t trust you. But I still loved you, still worried about you, still wanted to protect you and keep you safe. Not that I would have helped you or turned against the FBI, but I wasn’t just trying to neutralise a terrorist threat. I was trying to make sure you didn’t do something you couldn’t come back from.”

“Some of the things I did are pretty hard to live with,” she admitted, shame heating her face.

“It’s gonna take time to deal with all this. Probably more therapy, too,” he added, making her laugh a little, “but your dream version of me was right. I’ll be with you the whole way.”

“I love you,” she whispered again, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him back down to a horizontal position.

“Easier to say that time?” he asked.

She smiled against his neck. “A little.”

“How about the apartment? Do you love that?” He didn’t pull back to watch her, but from the way he went still, she could tell her answer mattered to him.

“I really do,” she said, turning her head and opening her eyes to take another look at the new décor. “Did you do this right after I left? I can’t smell paint or anything, so…”

He finally released her enough that they could see each other’s faces as they talked. “Yeah. I thought about what might help you feel better about coming home. I really don’t want to sell this place. Some of my favourite memories with you are here. But if you still have issues with it because of the house arrest, we can talk about it a little more.”

Jane shook her head. “Kurt, you did all this just for me. I don’t need anything else. I just need to be able to walk outside whenever I feel like it, which I can do now—unless there’s something you’re not telling me…”

“Nope. You’re free to come and go as you please.” He traced his finger over her neck tattoo. “Just let me know if you’re gonna stay away for a while.”

“I don’t need to go away again. I’m right where I want to be.”

He kissed her again, relief and love in his expression. “Know what? So am I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! All finished! Thank you for reading, and please let me know your thoughts! Obviously, my Remi isn't canon Remi, but I had fun writing her during the hiatus, before we get to find out what the real Remi is like these days.


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